


Unusual

by dizzy



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-20
Updated: 2012-09-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 14:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darren has no idea what's going on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Mav likes to boss me into writing things. I like the motivation. So, thanks bb!

Chris has sort of a naughty streak. It doesn't come through often, because Chris knows what works for him. The shy blushing thing, the quiet intellectual thing, even the adorable geek thing. People don't want to see Kurt Hummel strutting his stuff looking like a gay bar wet dream when the character is supposed to be in high school. 

Most people don't. Darren might be one of the exceptions. Might be, because this is actually relatively new information; gleaned only this morning when Chris had, indeed, strutted into the photoshoot. He'd just been in his own clothes but even his posture had been different. Sleepy eyes, messy hair with no product in it since he knew they'd just redo it anyway, but he'd yawned and stretched and his $10 Target t-shirt had ridden up enough to show a pale stomach with a dusting of dark hair disappearing down... 

Darren hadn't meant to stare, but he probably had. And if he had, then Chris noticed, because not much gets by him. 

* 

It gets even worse when Chris comes out of makeup and wardrobe. It's so strange to look at something so familiar - a face he sees hours and hours a day, most days - and yet to find it so fascinatingly different. There's a set to his jaw that Darren doesn't recognize and when Chris slumps into the seat at the direction of the photographer Darren manages to pry his eyes elsewhere. 

Black t-shirt. Black jeans. Black cuff. 

Black leather cuff. 

Darren's strangely fascinated by the bit of skin just above the cuff, by the way Chris doesn't really have tiny wrists like Darren would have thought. It makes sense; he's got big hands, big feet. He's lean but tall, and he's only that lean because he works at it. He's seen teenage Chris in old episodes, chubby cheeks and less comfort with his body. 

There's none of that right now. 

Chris is dynamic, and he knows it. 

Darren is staring again. 

Chris catches him again, but this time he looks slightly flustered, a minute break in the character of the photoshoot. Darren's eyes go wide in sort of a comical way at the funny look Chris is giving him. Chris seems to study Darren's face and then he relaxes into it, like he's just figured something out. 

Darren thinks it would be awfully nice if Chris let him in on the mystery, too. 

* 

He's doing it on purpose, Darren thinks. 

Chris is fucking with him. He's posing in different ways now, taking the guidance of the photographer but adding in some of his own. No one asked him to splay like that, to drape his hands across his thighs. No one asked him to keep swinging his gaze over at Darren, though the photographer likes and encourages it, Chris not looking straight at the camera. 

Between shots Chris tilts his head back against the chair, rolling it back and forth to work out some sort of kink or knot in the muscles. It also gives Darren a fucking devastating view of Chris's neck. 

Why? Why is he doing this to himself? Why is he sitting here practically drooling over his co-worker? For all that Darren shuns labels, for all that he's made out with guys back in college, he's never actually looked at a guy and wanted the guy's cock in his mouth. But he wants that right now, because he can see it. He can see the outline of Chris in those fucking skin tight jeans and it's making his mouth water. 

He doesn't just want to blow Chris. He wants Chris to fuck his mouth. He wants Chris's hands in his hair, tugging and pulling, hips thrusting, cock burying itself in Darren's throat. 

He shoves a hand between his legs and rubs firmly with his palm to try and stave off some of the growing frustration. He's got his own photoshoot after this and he really shouldn't be hard as a rock for it. 

* 

He tries to walk away. 

He goes outside. Fresh air. Clear his head. 

He calls Joey, who clearly has no fucking clue why he's getting a call in the middle of the morning and really just wants to go back to bed. 

He calls his mom, who is delighted to talk to him, and nothing kills a boner like a conversation with your mom. He's thinking he's in the clear when he heads back in, a jaunty step to his walk. 

And then there's Chris. The chair is gone now, and he's kneeling, hands over his head. It's a submissive position but Chris looks anything but submissive. 

Darren is ashamed to admit where his mind goes, because it's somewhere with Chris in that same position and a lot less clothing. He swallows hard and really he just wants to stare and stare and stare but someone grabs his arm and it's his turn for makeup and why is life so cruel? 

*

Darren thinks (hopes, maybe) Chris will be gone by the time he gets out. 

He needs time to mull over this sudden turn of events, this sudden epiphany of the sexual desirability of one Chris Colfer. 

He gets no time, though. When he comes out, Chris is still in the same outfit and he's laughing with one of the lighting people. He has a thumb pressed to his mouth and his eyes are crinkling and he's not at all the picture of someone looking for a boy to debauch anymore. He just looks like Chris, and... 

... and Darren still wants him. Something tightens in his gut and it's like his mind is frantically coupling the pornographic thoughts from earlier with Darren's existing knowledge of Chris and he's pretty sure that's one thing he's not gonna be able to ever undo. 

Chris turns and sees him and something in his eyes gleam danger again. Darren takes a step forward and he's planning on walking over to Chris. Really, it's just sort of weird that they haven't actually said a word to each other all day long, and maybe if they talk it'll break the spell. 

But he's grabbed and pulled off to the side and someone explains that Chris thinks it would be fun to do a few pictures of them together. 

Darren's in dark jeans and a white t-shirt, a corded necklace and sunglasses. The plan hadn't at all been to go for the same sort of sultry look that Chris was pulling off. Apparently the plan has changed. 

* 

Darren gives Chris a smile, and the corner of Chris's mouth twitches back in response. 

They're guided into positions, told how to stand and for how long and when to look away. 

Darren is in the chair and Chris kneels beside him, but the hand Chris puts on Darren's leg is more possessive and proprietary than anything else. 

They pause to change the lighting and Chris speaks up. He's shifted into a more comfortable position for the moment, wrapped his arm around Darren's calf and rested his chin on Darren's knee. "What if we put this on Darren now?" 

The photographer is surprised at the idea, but goes with it. 

Darren tries to pretend like this isn't turning him on as much as it really is, but his eyes are glued to Chris and Chris is looking right back at him as he takes off the cuff and then puts it on Darren instead.

Chris smiles and Darren's cock twitches. 

* 

The leather is warm and the fact that Darren knows it's from Chris's body heat is driving him insane. He can't look away from those intense blue eyes, and there's no way that Chris doesn't know what he's doing to Darren. 

A bulb blows and it'll take fifteen minutes to get a replacement in and operational again. 

"You're welcome to grab a drink or hit the dressing room." 

Darren shoots to his feet, but Chris is still holding onto his leg. It has all the potential for an awkward sitcom moment except that the tension is still palpable. Chris neatly extracts himself from Darren and holds out a hand, expecting Darren to help him up. 

Chris's palm is slightly sweat and his fingers are so long, grip so firm on Darren's hand. "Come on," Chris says, and Darren follows him because right now there's really no other option in his mind. 

* 

His breaths are coming in shallow twists, and he's already feeling lightheaded, like there's just not enough oxygen going to his brain or blood going... well, anywhere besides his cock. 

Chris shuts the door to the dressing room behind him and turns to look at Darren. 

Darren's knees feel a little week. "H-hi," he says, stumbling over the word, watching Chris with wide eyes. 

"Hi," Chris says. It's that same Chris-voice, the same Chris-eyes and Chris-mouth - Darren's kissed that mouth, for fuck's sake, there's no reason he should feel like this right now, but he does. Chris leans in and in and in and then his lips are brushing the corner of Darren's mouth. Darren turns his head, gasping, wanting full on contact but Chris pulls back just enough to keep the kiss out of reach. "Suck me." 

Darren's never gotten to his knees faster in his life. If he were to look up he'd see surprise on Chris's face, a brief flicker of something akin to shock and panic under the surface, like he hadn't really expected Darren to, but Darren's eyes are solidly on the outline of Chris through the jeans so he misses it all. His fingers are shaking while he undoes the belt, tugs the button through the slit in the fabric, yanks the zipper down. He leans in and sucks in air, the smell of Chris, close and intimate. He tugs the jeans down to mid-thigh and mouths at Chris through the boxer briefs he's wearing, finding the damp spot of precome and worrying it with his tongue, mixing the salty tang of Chris with his own saliva. 

Chris reaches down and fists Darren's hair, yanking his head back. "No playing around. Suck me." 

Darren scrambles to obey. He pulls down Chris's boxer briefs and he knows he's tempting fate by not just swallowing him down (and fuck, part of him wants to see what his punishment would be) but he has to just stare because Chris... Chris has the best cock Darren's ever seen. Not that he's seen a lot of cocks, not in a sexual fully-erect state, at least, but he's watched porn and, you know, seen things, and it's just... it's a fucking gorgeous cock and Darren wants it in his mouth, in his ass, wants it every way he can get it. 

He wraps his fingers around it, slides the tip into his mouth and starts to suck and jerk at the same time. Chris keeps perfectly quiet, so quiet that Darren isn't sure he's even doing this right, that Chris even likes it except that the precome keeps leaking out steadily and he can feel the twitching against his tongue and the faint, faint tremors in Chris's thighs. 

"I'm going to fuck your mouth." Chris's voice is more raspy now, just a touch deeper than Darren is used to hearing. 

"Yesyesyes," Darren says, but it's nothing but mumbling around a mouthful of cock, and he sucks hard enough to hollow his cheeks and tries to go deeper. He can't take it all - fuck, Chris is so long and just perfect and he'd do anything for this cock - but he doesn't have to because then Chris is jerking him back by the hair again and then holding him there while he thrusts in and out shallowly. 

It's even better than blowing Chris, because this makes him feel perfectly used, and with Chris leading he knows that he's doing what feels good without having to worry about it. There might be signs that Chris is close but Darren isn't at all paying attention to them... not once Chris mutters, "Get your cock out," in that voice of pure sex. 

He uses both hands because he doesn't have one-handed pants removal coordination right now, and Chris is still fucking his face hard enough to make Darren's jaw ache and his throat tickle with the need to couch, but then he has his fist around himself and it's only going to take about three seconds for him but Chris just said get his cock out, not come, and right now for some unknown reason it is imperative that he not do anything Chris hasn't given him permission to do. 

It's only in the last minute or so that Chris really starts to break, a whimper escaping his throat. "Fuck, Darren-" 

Hearing his name makes something in Darren soar and he starts to suck again, diving down further on Chris's cock, whining around it. It's enough - enough that the thick cock in his mouth starts to jerk and suddenly there's come pooling on his tongue. He swallows but it takes a moment to realize he needs to, and it's almost too much, sticking in the corners of his mouth and sliding down his chin a little. 

Chris slumps back against the door, breathing hard as he softens and then slips from Darren's mouth. He looks down at Darren, eyes suddenly wide in surprise like he hadn't actually noticed Darren sitting back on his calves with his pants undone and his cock in his hand. 

Darren looks up at him, pleading, needing something that only Chris can give. "Can I?" 

"Can you-" Chris's brow furrows in confusion, the fantastic orgasm he's just had muddling his thoughts a little... and then it dawns on him. He lets out a little groan, pure sexual agony, and then breathes in deep. "You can come." 

Chris has barely finished speaking when Darren is obeying. He'd been that close, toeing the line for minutes now, holding back through sheer willpower because he needed Chris to say it. Come stripes the floor under them, thick spurts and then a slower dribble out over his wrist, streaking the leather cuff. 

* 

"I have no idea what's happening here," Chris says, his voice shaky.

Chris feels absolutely drained, like he couldn't move if he had to. 

And then he realizes that he has to, because they've got five minutes left on this break if they're lucky and Darren is still at his feet, looking even more shattered than Chris feels. Did that really just happen? How did that escalate so fast? Darren's never shown any interest in Chris; Darren isn't even gay, for fuck's sake. 

When it becomes apparently that Darren isn't going to move on his own, Chris pulls himself together and straightens. He tucks himself back into his pants and yanks the wipes off of a desk cluttered with makeup (fuck, they'll both need touchups after this). 

It feels weird as hell kneeling to take care of Darren, but he can tell that Darren is still coming back to himself. Things get tense, a little more awkward in a way that seems entirely unavoidable. 

Chris glances down because he can't not, and he sees Darren with his cock out and come on the leather cuff, and he bites back a groan because that's still so fucking hot, awkward situation or not. He can't bring himself to clean that up so he hands Darren the box and gets back to his feet. "Are you okay?"

He's not really sure why Darren wouldn't be but he caves to the urge to ask. 

Darren shakes his head a little. "Fuck, man. I don't know." 

Chris waits for more, but Darren is still just looking at him like Chris has all the answers. It's a little intimidating and very unnerving but when he speaks Chris's voice is surprisingly strong. "We're gonna finish this photoshoot, get in our own cars, and drive to our own homes, okay?" Darren nods, wordless. "And tonight I'm going to call you." 

"Okay." Darren seems relieved, maybe even comforted. 

"I'm going out first. Fix your hair, take a minute to breathe, get yourself together. I'll tell them you're on the phone. Follow me in five minutes." 

Darren nods again. "Okay." 

Chris reaches out impulsively and rubs his fingers over Darren's wrist, under the cuff where the skin is just starting to get a little raw from how tight Chris had put it on him, and then he walks out of the room.


	2. Chapter 2

Darren skates through the rest of the photoshoot on autopilot. By the time he emerges from the dressing room Chris is already gone, his own duties fulfilled. It’s more of a relief than anything. Darren feels like he can actually breathe for the first time that day, like some sort of haze has been lifted from around him. 

No one gives him any strange looks, no one seems suspicious. Two hours later, he’s back in his car driving. He means to go home but the road stretches in front of him and he forgets to pay attention to things like signs and turn-offs and familiar paths. He feels itchy in his own skin right now, entirely in disbelief over the things he’d done and even more so by what all he’d wanted to do. 

He’s spouted the hippie-theater-kid party line about eschewing labels before, said with utter and entire sincerity that he accepts everyone no matter their orientation. He’s meant every bright-eyed overly optimistic statement with every fiber of his being, but he’s never actually considered himself to be one of those people trying to find himself. 

Has he? 

Guys are attractive, sure. Guys can be attractive in that way all humans can be. He’s seen guys, let his eyes wander, but he’s never wanted to do more. There have always been girls - willing girls, with sweet lips and soft curves and, God, he likes sex with women. He definitely likes sex with women. It’s warm and wet and just… he’s a guy. He thinks about sex a lot, spends a lot of his life trying to get it. Because sex feels good. Sex with women feels good. 

But Chris had, in the span of one day, blown every sexual encounter Darren has ever had out of the water. Including that one threesome the first (and only) time he tried LSD, which to this point has sort of been the highlight of bedroom adventuring for him. He has a ridiculous urge to go find the nearest bar and see if he can pick up a girl and take her home, just to reaffirm to himself that he does actually like having sex with girls, like Chris might have somehow been gifted at birth with the superhero power to turn people gay by coming down their throats. 

But then he’s thinking of Chris coming down his throat and suddenly sex with girls is the last thing on his mind. 

Chris hadn’t even touched him - not besides the fingers in Darren’s hair hair, and the gentle cleanup afterward. He shivers a little remembering the two fingertips Chris had laid on Darren’s cheek while he wiped at his mouth and chin. It was painfully intimate and even the memory of it leaves Darren feeling a little raw, like he’s been split open. In that moment, he’d have let Chris do anything to him, and that thought is terrifying. 

* 

At some point he realizes he has to go back home. 

He had plans to meet a friend for dinner, but he calls and cancels with an apologetic promise of a raincheck and starts off in the direction of his house. Joey isn’t home, won’t be home all weekend, and Darren is painfully glad of that right now. 

He showers, soaps up and lets the water rinse off the suds and sweat and come and Chris off of his body but it’s just a surface clean because he can still feel it under his skin, all of it. He licks his lips, watching drops from the spray, remembering how full and wet they’d been when Chris was in his mouth. 

He’s not hard, remembering does get him there just now. It’s more of a speculative thing, introspection instead of fantasy, but it makes him sort of ache in a different way. 

Chris said he’d call. 

Daren’s heart pounds a little. 

Does he even want Chris to call? All of this is confusing, so fucked up. 

He wants Chris to call. 

* 

He calls asleep on his bed wearing pajama pants and a worn navy t-shirt, one arm flung across his chest. He sleeps in fits, dreaming things that his mind doesn’t let him remember, and when his eyes do flicker open now and then he doesn’t let himself look at the clock until he hears the doorbell ring. 

It’s just past ten. He stumbles to his feet, rubs a fist over his eyes and heads down the small staircase. 

When he glances through the window he sees Chris standing there. He’s not really surprised. 

“You said you’d call.” 

“I thought we should do this in person.” If Chris is nervous, he’s hiding it well - but he can do that, Darren knows he can do that, he watches Chris flip that switch every time they walk out onto a stage somewhere. Nail-biting, stumbling nervous and then bam, all on, cool as ice. “Have you eaten?” 

Darren shakes his head. 

“Good, I bought dinner.” He holds up a bag and Darren reaches out instinctively to take it. “You look tired.” 

“I was asleep,” Darren admits. “Kinda… out of it.” 

Chris follows him into the kitchen, and then takes the bag back from Darren. “Sit. I’ll do it.” 

Darren drops into a chair, nervous eyes following Chris as he pulls out containers of Chinese food. He knows Darren’s order; enough late night deliveries on set. His stomach growls at the smell of noodles and rice and he really hadn’t realized how hungry he was. 

When Chris puts a plate in front of him, Darren eats like he’s on autopilot, his eyes still not leaving Chris. He knows on some level it must be unnerving to Chris, because it’s sure as fuck unnerving Darren, the way he just doesn’t want to stop looking. 

“Are you all right?” Chris’s voice is strong but delicate, like he’s picking his words carefully for Darren. “After earlier?” 

Darren dips his head a little. “Just confused.” 

“Me, too,” Chris says, smiling a little. Darren smiles back; for a second it feels like they’re kids sharing a secret. “I don’t know what… what led us there. To that place.” 

Darren snorts. “The place where I give you a blowjob? Yeah, beats me, too.” 

Chris rolls his eyes. “Well, if you want to be polite about it…” 

“I just wanted it,” Darren says. He drops his fork onto the plate, suddenly not in the least bit interested in food anymore, his hunger momentarily sated. “I did. And I don’t know what that means. But you were just - you looked so - you looked at me like… that. And I wanted it.” 

“Are you gay?” Chris asks bluntly. “Because I didn’t think you were.” 

“No! I’m not. I’m… but I liked it. And I’d…” 

“You’d what?” 

Darren’s voice goes low. “I’d do it again. If you told me to.” 

_If you told me to._ Darren isn’t sure at all where that came from, but the words were sure and true, and he means them. 

“Only if I told you to?” Chris sounds guarded now. 

That one’s harder. “I don’t know. If you told me, that would make it…” 

“Easier?” Chris guesses. 

“Yeah. I think so. It just felt right. I can’t explain it.” 

“Telling you to felt right, too,” Chris says. “And I can’t explain that, either. I’ve never done anything like that before.” 

Darren feels a little burst of relief that Chris isn’t some secret dominant with chains and leather whips in his bedroom at home. It makes him feel a little less lost, or at least like he’s lost with someone else. 

* 

He has this idea in his mind that Chris will tell him it’s a one-off thing, maybe give him a hug, maybe just a smile, and he’ll be gone. 

That they’ll be awkward for a while and then it’ll slip back into not-awkward and it’ll just be that one crazy thing they did one crazy night (day) and maybe he’ll jerk off to it while he’s wallowing in shame in the privacy of his own bed but it wouldn’t be mentioned again. 

Except that when Chris is done eating and he stands up and he looks at Darren, Darren’s gut starts to twist and he starts to sweat a little and he starts to get hard and suddenly he just really, really fucking wants Chris’s hands on him. 

It’s like Chris can see the change come over Darren, or maybe (Darren hopes) Chris is feeling something himself, maybe it’s not all just him reacting to Darren’s cracked out kinky inner self rising to the surface. Darren hopes, wants Chris to feel too, but to make Chris feel. 

He jolts out of his seat and stumbles forward but doesn’t touch yet. 

“Please,” he says, and shit, his voice even wobbles a little when he talks. “Can you…” 

“What do you need?” Chris asks, reaching out with one fingertip to lift Darren’s chin. Darren suddenly has a fierce love for those few inches Chris has on him. He likes this, likes looking up. 

“Kiss me.” As soon as Darren says it, his mouth goes dry, because earlier - Chris hadn’t. They hadn’t kissed, not even once. 

He has this idea that Chris will kiss like Kurt does; he’s wrong. Chris doesn’t even start like Kurt, he starts by turning Darren and backing him into the wall beside the kitchen door. Darren’s whining low, begging without speaking, before he even thuds against the solid surface. Then Chris lets one hand slide up through Darren’s hair and it’s like he knows, like someone handed Chris a cheat sheet on all the ways to turn Darren on. Darren wishes his hair were still longer so Chris could get a real grip on it. 

And then they’re kissing. It’s not… hard. It’s not bruising, there’s little force behind it but still so much power that it makes Darren a little weak in the knees. Chris is _leading_ the kiss. 

Then they’re done kissing and Chris is looking at him. “Is that what you need?” 

It was a good kiss. 

But Chris is his co-worker. 

And he’s straight. 

It hits him; the staggering impact of this to everything in his life. 

“I don’t know,” he admits, voice hoarse. 

If Chris is disappointed, he covers it well. Part of Darren wants to scramble and take it back but he’s scared shitless by what he’s feeling right now and it’s easier to just let Chris walk away. 

* 

It takes a couple of days before Darren breaks. 

It’s like he can feel the tension coiling inside of himself. He’s okay on Sunday; he cancels his plans, maybe, and he spends all day in his pajamas but he’s allowed a day to rest once in a while. By Monday morning he actually manages to convince himself that he feels recharged. 

It crumbles as soon as he steps foot onto set, into the makeup trailer and sees Chris right there. 

Chris smiles at him. Chris asks how his Sunday was (not weekend, he avoids that) and makes small talk and he’s perfectly… friendly. Not overly familiar, not a hint of suggestion anywhere in the words that slip out of his mouth, just perfectly friendly. 

Friendly. 

He’s just normal Chris, and by the time they’ve wrapped on all the scenes they had to film Darren is suffering a slight irritation. By Wednesday, he’s downright frustrated. He starts to read too much into it.. starts to wonder how Chris can just turn it off and on again. 

Darren thinks that he’s pulling off normal, too, but it’s a struggle and he doubts himself. He stares a little too hard and he knows Chris has felt the gaze a few times. 

By Friday Darren has elevated into anger, because they had fucking spectacular sex and it seems to have somehow intrinsically changed Darren and Chris is just - he’s ignoring it. 

Darren packs his weekend full of activity, to make up for broken engagements the previous weekend and just to keep his mind off. Saturday night finds him as drunk as he’s been in a very long time, working up a sweat on the dance floor, though his heart isn’t in it. 

That’s probably why after an hour and three more shots, he finds a corner to hide in and scrolls the contact list on his phone. He passes over an ex-girlfriend, another ex-girlfriend - why is he still friends with so many exes? - and then… 

C. 

Co. 

Colfer. 

The letters swim in front of his eyes and he almost falls over right there, proving again to himself how incredibly drunk he is. But he’s got just enough coordination to take the name and then the entire screen is filled with contact information. 

He’s got a lot of ways to talk to Chris, he realizes. He could call him, he could text, he could email, he could facetime, he could… 

He could get in his car and drive over there. 

Okay, maybe a cab. 

He actually takes a few steps toward the door before he remembers that he came here with people and he probably shouldn’t just leave without saying anything to them. Should he tell Joey? Joey knows something’s up - hell, Darren could tell him exactly what happened and Joey wouldn’t judge him, because that’s just how they are. But… he doesn’t even get this himself, he wouldn’t even know what to say. 

He tries to imagine calling up Lauren - what would she say? ‘Of course I knew it, that’s why I dumped you. See? Doing you a favor, forcing you to face your sexuality.’ 

He giggles himself, a high little noise that gets him a weird look from a girl passing. 

“I have a thing for a guy,” he says out loud. 

He just wants to hear the words spoken, like that’ll make them more real. 

“I have a thing for Chris,” he says, louder. 

“Lucky him.” A guy winks as he passes, reaching down to pat Darren on the ass. Darren yelps and jumps. His finger on the phone slips. 

A call screen pops up. 

“Hello?” Chris answers on the third ring. “Darren?” 

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Darren blurts out. “I want you to fuck me.” 

Chris doesn’t answer. Darren scrunches his face up, eyes tightly closed. His heart is pounding all of a sudden. 

“So,” Chris says, and then laughs. “Uh. How much have you had to drink?” 

“A lot.” 

“Are you… where are you? Do you need a ride home?” 

Cab, Darren thinks, and he knows Chris is way too smart to not have thought that first too, but Chris is sort of offering him an opportunity here, and Darren takes it. “Yeah - yes. Yes.” 

He rattles off the address and then Chris hangs up and Darren spins on his feet, goes straight to Joey - who has his tongue down the throat of a cute redhead and isn’t all that bothered by Darren’s admission that he’s leaving, not when Darren says that ones of his buddies from the show is here. 

He knows if he said it was Chris that Joey that Joey would want to come say hi, and Darren doesn’t feel like sharing right now. He orders two more shots and downs them, feeling the burn down this throat and the churn in his gut that hints at just over too much alcohol. He wants this buzz of courage to last a little bit longer, though. 

* 

He thinks he arrived with a jacket but once he makes it outside he realizes that it’s lost somewhere in the depths of the club, and he’s not really feeling inclined to go back for it. It won’t be the first item of clothing he’s sacrificed to the god of inebriation, and he’s sort of afraid he’ll miss Chris even though Chris is at least twenty minutes away. 

He’s shivering a little by the time Chris does pull up. He rolls down the window and waves at Darren to make sure Darren knows that it’s him. 

When the door pops open a little bit, Darren drops down into the car. There’s a blast of welcoming heat when he slumps down into the seat. 

Chris takes a minute to just look over at him. He looks… tired. It makes Darren’s heart sort of pang and it pulls honesty from him, that same sort of instinctive reaction that Chris had drawn from him just a week before. 

He shakes his head. 

* 

They don’t say anything else for the rest of the drive. 

Chris pulls into his driveway and gets out, waiting on Darren before he clicks the lock on the car and then lets them into the house. “Hungry? Need to sober up some?” 

Darren wraps his arms around himself. “Not really.” 

“Because you don’t want to be sober, or because you already are?” 

Darren’s not sure why it matters so much. 

“I just,” Chris starts, then rubs at his forehead. “Damnit, Darren.” 

“What?” Darren’s face falls and, fuck, his eyes start to sting a little, because he’s not sure why but disappointing Chris just seems like the absolute worst fucking thing in the world. 

Chris’s eyes widen and he steps forward, reaching out to pet his fingers through Darren’s ungelled hair. “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re fine. You just frustrate me.” 

Darren wants to whimper a little because the touch feels nice and he wants so much and the words don’t really make the ache go away at all. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. It’s not like I know what to tell you.” Chris keeps soothing him, and Darren steps in closer. He looks at Chris and then impulsively drops to his knees, pressing his forehead to Chris’s thigh. “That’s what you want?” 

“I think so.” Darren looks up at him, finds Chris’s hands with his. “Is that fucked up?” 

“No. I just haven’t… before. Ever. And with you-” Chris keeps petting him, and Darren’s starting to respond in a more visceral way - pulse quickening, breath shallow, wantwantwant building in him. It’s like a little spark that he’s been nurturing for a week now and with the slightest provocation it’s ready to blaze. “Look at me.” 

Darren tips his head up but doesn’t say anything. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t know what you’re doing. Is this just about wanting someone to fill a role for you in the bedroom?” 

Darren shakes his head. 

“Words,” Chris orders. “I need to understand.” 

“No, it’s not, it’s - you. I don’t know what that thing last week was, man, but it did something to me and I can’t stop thinking about you.” Darren uses his grasp on Chris’s hands to tug him down, too. They’re closer to eye level like this, and without letting himself think too much Darren leans forward and plants his mouth against Chris’s. 

Chris responds back after only a few seconds of shock. The kiss is enthusiastic and a little too wet and Darren’s the biggest contributor to the lack of coordination but he just does not give a fuck because he’s finally tasting Chris again and it’s fucking perfect. 

“Last week,” Chris gasps a little. “Last week you said you didn’t know what you wanted.” 

“I know I did, I know, I know, and I’m sorry, I mean, I just wasn’t thinking-” 

“You didn’t know what you wanted last week, but you do now?” Chris can’t stop staring at Darren’s mouth. His lips are pink and a little bit wet and it’s definitely without a doubt the second hottest thing that Chris has ever seen - the first having, of course, also featured Darren’s mouth. 

Darren doesn’t answer, he just kisses Chris again. Chris kisses back and it’s seeming like it’s going somewhere, somewhere that Darren really fucking wants to go, but then Chris presses his palms flat against Darren’s shoulders and presses back. 

“Not while you’re drunk,” he says. 

Darren just blinks at him. “I still know what I want.” 

“Maybe you do, but,” Chris winces. “But I still need to be sure. Before I… before we do… this.” 

Darren feels almost like he’s suffocating under the amount of disappointment he feels right now. “I don’t want to wait. I want to stay.” 

“You can stay.” Chris reaches out for him, pulls Darren in. Darren fits himself against Chris, clinging a little. Chris reacts on instinct, curling his arms around Darren and rubbing hands over his back. “I want you to stay. I just don’t want to do anything you might regret in the morning.” 

“With you?” Darren asks, insistant. “Please.” 

His voice is shaky and Chris feels even better about his decision to wait, because there’s a whole lot of stuff going on under the surface here that he has no idea how to touch when Darren isn’t really even in the right state to start to explain it to him. 

The needy streak that’s coming out inside of Darren is just as much a surprise to Darren as it is to Chris, but Chris leads him upstairs and gives him something to change into. Darren is quiet but fidgets while he waits on Chris, bouncing on the end of the bed when Chris walks away for a minute. He’s full of nervous tension and Chris has to fight the urge to help him channel it… because Chris can only really think of one way right now. 

His mind is at war with itself, but Darren just keeps looking at him and Chris… Chris can’t. He takes a deep breath. “Lay on the bed. Take your clothes off.” 

Darren scrambles into action, almost falling over in his hurry. He’s half hard standing in front of Chris and this… this is new. He looks so good and Chris sort of aches to touch and taste and feel, but he meant what he’d said. He doesn’t want to do this while Darren is drunk. 

“On the bed,” Chris says. He takes a moment to gather himself, like slipping into character except not, because this just feels like part of him, while Darren stretches out naked on Chris’s sheets. There’s only light from the hallway and the parted curtains in the room, but it’s enough to see by. 

“Are you gonna-” 

“Don’t talk. You’re going to listen to me. Can you do that?” 

Darren immediately shuts his mouth and nods. His cock hardens a little more, filling under Chris’s suddenly very focused gaze. “You liked having my cock in your mouth, don’t you?” 

Darren nods frantically. 

“You’ve never sucked cock before, have you?” 

Darren shakes his head. His fingers flex against his thigh and Chris knows what that means; he bites back a grown at the imagined vision of Darren with his hands on himself. Yeah, that’s gonna happen, it’s definitely gonna happen, but not this soon. 

“I’ll have to teach you.” Chris steps a little close. He’s hard now, too - has been since Darren kissed him - but he makes no move to touch himself, either. “You did all right, for a first time, but you’d look so good taking me all in.” 

Darren groans. He’s fully hard now, cock twitching against his stomach. Chris is sort of stunned by how fast that happened, how much this does for Darren. He wonders how much it would take to talk Darren off… and then he wonders if he should really be making plans like this, because there’s every chance that Darren will wake up hungover and freaked out. Chris isn’t even sure that he’d blame Darren. 

He lets the silence drag on a little too long, not because he doesn’t know what to say but because it feels right to keep Darren wondering. 

“You can touch, but not your cock.” He finally says. Darren’s hands go to his thighs immediately, rubbing up and down, then to Chris’s utter shock, slipping between to cup his balls and then rub against his asshole. Darren whines at the touch, head tossing to the side. He doesn’t go in, just spreads his legs and circles his finger against the skin. 

“Fuck,” Chris breathes. Darren looks at him and it’s like it dawns on him what this is doing to Chris and he looks so pleased with himself, but he still doesn’t speak. 

Chris walks over to his bedside drawer and opens it. Inside is a half full bottle of lube. Darren’s cock jerks hard and Chris is momentarily distracted by the precome dripping from the head, making a sticky line down to his stomach. 

“Give me your hand,” Chris says. Darren holds out the same hand that’s just been touching his ass. Chris cups it, strokes his fingers over Darren’s. Darren groans. After a moment of fondling, Chris flips open the cap of the lube and drizzles it on Darren’s hand. “Do you finger yourself? Have you done that before?” 

Darren looks conflicted, like he wants to explain. 

“Has someone else done it to you?” 

He nods. 

“A man?” 

He shakes his head. 

“Did you like it?” 

He shrugs. 

“Do you want my fingers in you?” 

He’s less hesitant this time. He nods, whimpering. 

“You can’t have them yet. But you can finger yourself.” It’s phrased like a request but the tone is an order. 

Darren’s hand goes back immediately, lube slipping over his fingers and making everything slick and shiny. Chris wants to see this later, in full light, with Darren spread facedown on a pillow with his ass in the air. He wants his own fingers disappearing into him, wants to follow it with his cock. 

Without realizing what he’s doing, he reaches down and palms himself. Darren’s eyes go wider and his hips thrust up, one finger sinking into himself. 

“Can you take two?” Chris asks. 

Darren nods. 

“Do it. Fuck yourself with them.” 

He can tell exactly when Darren finds his prostate because his cock, still untouched, jerks wildly and more precome puddles on his stomach. 

“You’re leaking. You want it so bad, don’t you? You want my cock, you want me inside you. You know how hard I’d make you come, Darren?” His voice goes dark and low and sweat begins to bead on Darren’s forehead, slick on his chest. “I’d fuck you for hours and I’d make you wait. You can’t come until I do. You can’t come until I finish filling your ass. I want to come inside you, I want that, I want to see you take everything I have. Do you think you can take me?” 

He nods, desperate now, hips fucking up into the air uselessly, getting no satisfaction from it but still trying. 

“If you wake up in the morning and you still want this, I’ll do it.” 

Darren’s mouth forms the shape of Chris’s name, though his voice is still quiet. 

“You can touch yourself. Show me how you bring yourself off, Darren. Come for me.” 

His fingers fly out of himself and onto his cock, jerking hard and fast. It takes barely thirty seconds until he’s letting out a muted cry - still trying to follow Chris’s order to be quiet - and spurting thick, long shots of come that streak his chest. It keeps going and going - fuck, has he not jerked off since the week before, has he fucking waited? - until it’s just dribbling out of his cock and coating his fingers. He finally starts to go soft and Darren slumps back against the bed, eyes closed, looking utterly blissed out. 

“Stay,” Chris says. 

He goes into the bathroom. It takes him almost less than it had taken Darren. He makes no noise at all, comes into a wad of toilet paper and then washes his hand and grabs a towel to dampen. 

Darren still doesn’t talk as Chris cleans him up, but his eyes are all soft and sweet and god, has anyone ever looked at Chris like this, with so much trust? He doesn’t think so. It’s sort of terrifying. 

He finds a shirt and pants. “Put these on.” 

Darren gets dressed and then sits on the edge of Chris’s bed, just looking at him. He’s quiet - too quiet. But - oh, fuck. 

“You can talk now,” Chris says. 

Darren releases a breath like he’d been somehow physically strained by not speaking. “Thank you.” His voice actually sounds a little raw. He holds out his hands wanting Chris to take them. He does, linking their fingers together. “That was… thank you. Do you… can I…” 

He looks hesitantly up at Chris, then his eyes flicker pointedly downward. 

Chris feels his face heat up. “No, I already… took care of it.” 

Darren looks disappointed but doesn’t argue. “Can I still stay?” 

“Of course.” 

“And did you mean it? What you said about in the morning?” 

Chris holds his breath for a moment. “I did.” 

Darren smiles and lets his fingers go, curling up on the bed. Chris had been planning on sleeping on the couch but right now there’s hardly a force on earth that could make him walk away from this spot. He gets into bed and pulls down the covers so Darren can slip under them, too. 

* 

Darren wakes up to an alarm buzzing in his ear at noon. He has a hangover, head throbbing and mouth dry, and movement makes his stomach turn. He slaps a hand out to where his phone would normally be but there’s nothing there, just more bed. 

It starts to come to him slowly. 

Club. Drinks. Dancing. 

Chris. 

_Chris._

He rolls over, forcing his eyes open, like maybe that’s punishment or something. God, he’d been - he’d been fucking shameless. Calling Chris up like that, coming over. 

And then… 

He’s naked, in Chris’s bed. 

What had they done? He remembers things - sort of. Not things, but… sounds. Chris. He shivers a little, arousal pinging through the haze of overindulgence. God, Chris hadn’t even TOUCHED him, not really. Had he? No, Darren doesn’t think so. Not once they were in the bedroom. And Darren still… 

His stomach turns again, humiliation and sickness twining together nauseatingly. He manages to stumble out of the bed and into the bathroom, glad he picked the right door and the toilet was close by. He’s not sure the impression he really wants to make is puking into Chris’s favorite pair of shoes. 

He hears the bedroom door open and then footsteps. He’s miserable right now and the touch of Chris’s hand on the back of his neck just makes it worse. He throws up again and then his stomach thankfully calms. Chris reaches past him to flush the toilet. 

Darren has never felt younger or more pathetic in his life. Tears actually well in his eyes and he blinks furiously to keep them at bay. He wants… he wants… 

He wants someone to make it all better. Chris steps over to the sink and starts to run the water. Without thinking, Darren turns his head toward Chris’s leg and presses his forehead to Chris’s calf. Chris goes still for a minute and then Darren feels fingers in his hair. “I have medicine for you. Think you can keep down something fizzy?” 

Darren nods. He really doesn’t want Chris to stop touching him, but the hand pulling away from his hair. Chris kneels and Darren gets his first look at him. 

Chris looks perfect. Of course. He’s showered and dressed, his hair done. He looks amazing and Darren feels like he’s going to cry, again. Chris puts the drink and three little pills in his hand, and Darren swallows them down. 

Then Chris stands and offers his hands down, helping Darren up onto his feet. “Freaking out?” He asks quietly. 

Darren nods. 

“Like last time?” 

He doesn’t give himself a chance to over think it, and shakes his head. “Not that bad.” His voice is sort of croaky and he sounds about as good as he feels, but he squeezes Chris’s hands and then steps into him. “You?” 

“I don’t know. Ask me again in a couple days.” Chris hugs Darren to him. “We have to be on set in two hours. You want to shower?” 

“Can I lay down first?” 

“Of course.” Chris steps away, giving Darren space to move. 

“You, too?” 

That obviously surprises Chris, but he nods. “Sure. If you want me to.” 

Back in bed, Darren sleeps again. He doesn’t wake up again until Chris shakes him, murmuring that they needed to be ready to leave in half an hour if they wanted to make it to set on time. He stumbles through a shower, eats the toast Chris gives him. 

He sits at the bar and watches Chris lean up a little. Chris has been taking care of him. Last night - and all morning. Chris does it… effortlessly. He does it in a way that makes Darren feel something that he hasn’t felt with any girlfriend he’s ever had before. Before it was always sort of restless - he liked them, his past girlfriends, even loved a couple but it always felt like he was just biding time. Like he was waiting on something that would finally scratch below the surface, to whatever was waiting underneath. 

And now maybe he’s found it.


End file.
